“Are you?” My head tilted with my question. “You spent your whole life trying to be like dad. The next Memphis Limmerick. And now, you’re stuck in a hospital bed and might never ride a bull again.” I paused. “It’s okay to not be okay, you know.”
Boone sat there and stared down at his empty plate. “Did you get therapy…after Dad?” His eyes raised to meet mine, filled with a plethora of emotions.
“I did.”
He bit his lower lip. “And did it help?”
Anxiety filled the back of my throat and I felt this wave of emotion climb to the surface. I had to swallow it back just tospeak. “Yes and no. There are things I struggle with that even therapy can’t fix, no matter how often I go and speak about them. But that doesn’t mean therapy can’t be useful in your healing.” I stared down at my wrist, feeling along the old scars. “I used to shit on therapy too, you know. I mocked it and looked down on it like it was nothing more than a joke made to line some doctor’s pockets. I didn’t think I needed it either.” I took a deep breath, knowing that talking so openly about my struggles would be hard and potentially triggering. But Boone needed to hear this. He needed to know the truth, especially if it meant the truth of my struggles could help him heal.
Deep breath.
“You know I’ve always had a hard time…fitting in.” He nodded. “Not just in school or around town, but at home. Being adopted, I struggled with feeling like I really had a place in this world.” I stared at my wrist as my fingers curled around it. “My own mother was a drug addict who didn’t want me so—” Tears began to flood my eyes. “Why would anyone else?”
Keep it together.
“I mean, I didn’t doubt our parents’ love. But no matter how much they would say it, how many times they showed up and tried to save me…I just—I just always felt this cold, overwhelming weight all over me.” My hands began to tremble. “It’s like nothing can change my mind or convince me that I’m worth loving. And back then, instead of fighting that voice in my head and believing what I saw before me, I just listened to it.” My eyes rose to meet Boone’s, noticing his too were filled with tears. It made my heart ache to see him that way.
Fuck, keep it together. You can do this.
“I always envied how easily you blended into life at home. You never questioned where you came from, who your parents were, and you just fit into life at Bone Ridge so perfectly. It was like you were meant to be there. And no matter how hard I tried,I never felt that way myself.” I wiped my eyes before the tears could trail down my cheeks. “Hell, even Forsythe fit in better than I did.” I chuckled lightly and Boone mimicked my laughs as tears flowed down his face. “I was such a mess back then.”
He rubbed his eyes and tried to dry his face. “Is that why you left?”
My whole body went rigid at the question. I knew there was a chance he’d ask, but no matter how many times I played the scenario in my head, nothing prepared me for the moment it actually happened.
“No,” I whispered. I picked at my fingers in my lap. “I left because I thought it was the only way to escape how I felt. But no matter how hard you try, or how far you go, you can’t outrun the ghosts of your past.”
Those ghosts will forever shadow you, always reminding you of the very thing you tried to escape. And nothing can mute those memories.
His voice was soft as he spoke. “I always wondered where you ran off to…why you never came back. Hell, I thought you were mad at me at one point.” He noticed my reaction and smiled. “Don’t worry, I figured it out. But as a kid, could you blame me? Sure, Mom tried to shield me from it all, but I’d hear her talking to Cooper or Dallas discussing your rehab stays or hospital visits. I remember one time, she was so worried that you were going to be found dead in an alley…but then, things seemed to get better. Mom began to tell me things, like when you began to go to therapy on your own, or you finally nailed down a solid job. She was so happy. We both were. And that’s when I realized that it had nothing to do with me. You leaving was something you had to do.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks. “I almost didn’t make it though…” I stood and approached his bedside, carefully taking his hand into mine. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” Igently kissed the top of his head. “I was just so lost…for so long.” I slowly crumbled down to my knees and rested my head onto our clasped hands.
My brother placed his other hand on the back of my head. “I’m sorry life hasn’t been the kindest to you, Lucille. And I’m sorry you’re haunted by those ghosts, forever following in your shadow. But maybe, if you let someone shed even the faintest bit of light on you, you’d finally learn to breathe and live in the present.” He reached around and lifted my face, staring into my reddened, tear-filled eyes. “I’ll talk to the doctors and resume my therapy.” His thumb wiped the tears from my cheek. “I’ll try, Loulou. I promise.”
I nearly fell apart. “Thank you, Boone.”
Chapter Seven
Lucille
“Hey, bartender! Another refill, please?”My long nail tapped the brim of the tall, empty glass.
A familiar scent suddenly flooded my nostrils as someone took the seat next to me. “Really think you oughta be drinking?” he asked, placing his dark, worn cowboy hat on top of the bar. “How’s your leg?”
The bartender replaced my empty glass with a new one, complete with a lemon slice. I plucked it up and squeezed it all over the surface of my drink before using my straw to mix the juice. “Thisis tea.” I took a sip. “And my leg is fine. Just a little bruised.” I reached down and pulled the skirt hem of my plaid dress up enough to show him my bare thigh. “See? All good. At least over time, the bruising will go away. Unlike the scar.”
Forsythe reached out and gently touched my leg, faintly gliding his fingertips along the old scar. It made my skin prickle all over. “Does it hurt to walk?” I nodded. “Well, it might be easier if you stopped wearing clunky shoes like those.” He pointed to my platform boots with his other hand. “Hell, I’m surprised you haven’t twisted your ankle walking around in them yet.”
I pulled the hem of my dress back down, forcing his warm palm away. “I get by just fine, thank you.” I stuck the flimsy lemon slice between my teeth, and rested my elbows on the bar. Forsythe smirked. I noticed he was wearing his usual leather jacket and dark shirt, dressed as if he just came from the ranch. “You here alone?” I asked with a mouthful of lemon.
His brow raised. “Would you be jealous if I said no?”
I nearly choked on the lemon slice, coughing as I spat it out onto the bar. Forsythe patted my back, laughing as I tried to breathe. “No!” I inhaled sharply. “Fuck?—”
“Easy, little viper. I’m only messing with you.” He ordered water from the bartender, specifically asking for a new lemon slice. “Here.” He dropped the slice into my hand. “No, I’m waiting for the others to show. Torchy has been trying to force us all to get out more and ‘socialize’.” He smiled while shaking his head. “Fucking kid.”
I took the lemon slice and squeezed it over my tea before taking a sip. “Torchy has always been a little different.” I smiled, biting the straw with my teeth. “He’s always kept things lively.” Forsythe watched me closely. “You know he’s a few years older than me, right?”
